Chapter 6 - Charlotte
"I couldn't either," I whisper, my heart hammering in my chest.
Part of my mind is screaming that this is my employer, that I've known him less than a day, that this crosses every professional boundary imaginable. But that rational voice is drowned out by the overwhelming pull I feel toward him.
"Would you like to come in?" I ask, stepping back from the doorway.
Vincent hesitates for only a second before entering. I close the door behind him, aware that we're now alone in my small bedroom, the rest of the house silent and sleeping.
The moment the latch clicks, something shifts. Vincent turns to me, and suddenly he's moving, closing the distance between us in one stride. His hands find my hips, pulling me against him as his mouth captures mine in a kiss that's both question and answer.
I gasp against his lips, momentarily surprised by his urgency, but my body responds right away. My arms wrap around his neck as I kiss him back with equal fervor, my desire awakening all at once.
His lips are firm yet soft, his stubble rough against my skin in a way that is both delicious and intoxicating. He tastes faintly of mint toothpaste and a manly musky scent that belongs only to him.
I can't believe this is happening, but I can't resist him either. I've never wanted anyone the way I want Vincent Covington right now.
His hands slide from my hips to my back, pulling me closer until I can feel the hard planes of his chest against me. The thin fabric of my tank top does nothing to hide how my body reacts to his touch, my nipples stiff against his chest.
Vincent breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged.
"Charlotte," he whispers, my name sounding like both prayer and plea on his lips. "Tell me to stop."
"I don't want you to stop," I confess, my voice barely audible.
His eyes search mine for any hesitation. Finding none, he reaches for the hem of my tank top. I lift my arms without hesitation, allowing him to pull it over my head. The cool night air pebbles my skin as I stand before him, bare from the waist up, my breasts exposed to his gaze.
Vincent stares at me, his mouth slightly parted, eyes traveling over my naked torso with such raw appreciation that I should feel self-conscious but instead feel powerful. My breasts rise and fall with each quickened breath, and I see his hands flex at his sides, as if he's restraining himself.
"What do you think?" I ask shyly, surprising myself with my boldness.
He swallows hard.
"Beautiful," he utters, the single word filled with such genuine reverence that warmth floods through me. "God, Charlotte, you're so beautiful."
His hands reach for me again, this time cupping my breasts with careful wonder. His thumbs brush across my nipples, sending sparks of pleasure down my spine. I can't contain the soft moan that escapes me.
The sound seems to ignite something in him. He pulls his t-shirt off, revealing a body carved from years of physical labor—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, defined pectorals, and a perfect six-pack that only a hardworking cowboy could have. A light dusting of dark hair trails down from his navel, disappearing beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.
I reach out to touch him, tracing the ridges of muscle with trembling fingers.
"Now who's beautiful," I murmur.
Vincent steps forward, his skin hot against mine as he kisses me again, deeper this time, more insistent. He guides me backward until my legs hit the bed, then gently lowers me onto the mattress, following me down without breaking our kiss.
His weight above me feels perfect—solid and masculine, but careful not to crush me. He trails kisses from my mouth to my jaw, then down my neck. When his lips close around one nipple, I arch into the sensation, fingers tangling in his dark hair.
As his hand slides down my stomach toward the waistband of my shorts, I suddenly tense. Vincent immediately notices, pulling back to look at me with concern.
"I—" I start, then falter, unsure how to say this. "Vincent, I should tell you something."
He props himself up on one elbow, giving me his full attention. "What is it?"
I take a deep breath. "I've never... I'm a virgin."
Surprise flickers across his face, but it's quickly replaced by understanding. He brushes a strand of hair from my face with gentle fingers.
"Oh! We don't have to do anything you're not ready for," he says softly. "We can stop right now."
The sincerity in his voice makes my heart swell. He’s the right one. I’m sure of it.
"That's the thing," I say, finding courage in his tenderness. "I know this is odd. I've had boyfriends before, but none felt right. I waited so long for the right person, and now it feels like destiny has just fallen upon me.” I touch his face, memorizing the contours with my fingertips. "If you want more than just casual, I'll offer myself to you. All of me."
Vincent's expression grows serious. He takes my hand from his face and presses a kiss to my palm.
"Charlotte, I want your heart," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "The rest is just details."
Before I can respond, he's moving down my body, pressing kisses to my collarbone, the valley between my breasts, my stomach. His hands hook into my shorts and underwear, looking up for permission. I nod, lifting my hips to help him remove them.
Now completely naked beneath him, I fight the urge to cover myself. Vincent's gaze is lovely as it travels over me.
"Perfect," he murmurs, settling between my thighs. "Let me show you how much I want you."
His head dips down, and at the first touch of his tongue against my already wet pussy, my world splinters into several fragments. His hands hold my hips steady as he worships me with his mouth, alternating between gentle licks and more focused attention that makes me gasp and writhe.
I've never experienced anything like this—the building pressure, the way each stroke of his tongue brings me closer to some precipice I can feel but can't quite visualize. My hands clutch at the sheets, then at his hair, holding him against me as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable intensity.
"Vincent," I moan, unsure if I'm begging him to stop or never stop.
He looks up at me from between my thighs, "Let go, Charlotte," he urges. "I've got you."
And I do, shattering into a thousand pieces as waves of pleasure crash through me. Vincent stays with me through it all, gentling his touch as I gradually come back to myself, trembling and breathless.
When he moves back up my body, his expression is one of male satisfaction and genuine tenderness. He kisses me softly, and I taste myself on his lips—strange but intimate in a way that makes me feel claimed.
"That was..." I whisper, unable to find words.
He smiles, brushing damp hair from my forehead.
"Just the beginning," he promises.
The mattress trembles slightly beneath his shifting weight as he stands at the edge of the bed, his powerful body silhouetted in the moonlight. He pushes his sweatpants down to pool around his ankles.
The substantial bulge beneath his briefs makes my mouth dry. Then, with confident movements, he lowers his underwear, freeing his arousal. His cock springs forth, thick and impressive, bobbing briefly before standing proudly erect like an arrow pointing directly at me.
Without conscious thought, my legs spread wider in a wordless invitation. I met this man barely twelve hours ago, yet here I am, offering my virginity.
Some distant part of my mind registers the absurdity, but deeper than rational thought is bone-deep certainty: I want this. Not just the physical pleasure, but him, his daughter, his family, this ranch—a place I could finally call home.
This isn't professional, certainly not what the agency would expect from me. But as Vincent moves back onto the bed, positioning himself between my thighs, all rules and regulations vanish from my mind.
"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice strained with restraint.
I reach up to touch his face. “I've never been more certain of anything.”
He nods, reaching down to guide himself to my entrance. The blunt pressure as he begins to push forward makes me gasp. Vincent pauses, giving me time to adjust, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding back.
"Breathe, Charlotte," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.
I inhale deeply, consciously relaxing, and he pushes further. The discomfort mingles with pleasure as he continues his careful advance, retreating slightly before pressing deeper each time.
When he meets resistance—physical proof of my virginity—his eyes lock with mine.
"This might hurt," he warns softly.
With one smooth thrust, he breaks through. I gasp at the sharp pain, my nails digging into his back. Vincent freezes, now fully joined with me.
"You're so tight," he groans. "And I... I haven't done this in a very long time. Can't promise I'll last long."
His admission surprises me. This confident, capable man, uncertain in this moment—it endears him to me even more.
"This is already incredible," I assure him, the pain already subsiding, replaced by a novel sense of fullness and connection.
He begins to move in slow, careful thrusts that gradually build in rhythm as my body accommodates him. His hips rock forward with growing confidence as he locks eyes with me, intense and unwavering, as if memorizing every reaction, every subtle change in my expression.
Sweat glistens on his skin as his movements become more deliberate. A few drops trickle from his hairline, trailing down before falling onto my chest. The sight of him above me—this strong, capable man losing himself in our connection—intensifies my own pleasure.
A particularly deep thrust hits something inside me that makes me gasp loudly. The sensation builds quickly, threatening to pull sounds from me that would surely echo through the quiet house. I bite my lip, trying to stay silent, but another thrust in the same spot makes a moan escape.
I quickly cover my mouth with my hand, eyes wide with the sudden reminder that we aren't alone—his brothers and daughter sleep just down the hall. Vincent watches this with dark eyes, clearly aroused by my struggle to stay quiet. He leans down, his lips brushing my ear.
"I want to hear you," he whispers. "Next time, somewhere we can be alone."
The promise of "next time" sends a thrill through me. This isn't just a momentary lapse in judgment. He's already thinking ahead, planning for us.
His pace increases, his breathing becoming more ragged. I can feel him swelling inside me, his control slipping. My own pleasure coils tighter, building toward something I can sense will be even more powerful than before.
"Charlotte," he groans softly, his voice strained. "I can't hold back much longer."
"Don't," I whisper against his shoulder, my nails digging into the muscles of his back. "Please don't stop."
I bury my face against his neck to muffle my cries, teeth grazing his skin as my inner muscles clench around his throbbing cock.
The sensation triggers his own release. With a final powerful thrust, he buries himself completely inside me, his body tensing as he finds his orgasm.
For several moments, we remain joined, neither willing to break the connection. Eventually, he shifts to his side, bringing me with him so we're facing each other, still intimately connected.
His hand brushes damp hair from my face, his expression tender yet concerned.
"Did I hurt you?"
"A little, at first," I admit. "But then... it was wonderful."
Relief softens his features.
"For me too." He pauses, fingers tracing my cheek. "I didn't plan for this to happen."
"Neither did I," I say with a small smile. "I'm usually much more... professional."
He winces slightly. "God, the professional aspect…”
I press my fingers to his lips, stopping his words. "Don't. I wanted this. I chose this."
"We should talk about what this means," he says when I lower my hand. "For the job, for Lily.”
The mention of his daughter brings reality crashing back.
"I know," I sigh. "It's complicated."
"Understatement of the year," he says with a rueful smile. "But not necessarily bad complicated."
His words spark hope in my chest. "No?"
Vincent shakes his head, his expression serious. "Charlotte, I don't do casual. Especially not now, not with Lily to consider. Whatever this is between us—and I'm still trying to figure that out myself—it's not just physical for me."
"It's not just physical for me either," I confess. "I know it sounds crazy. We barely know each other. But there's something here that feels... right."
He nods, understanding in his eyes. "We'll take it slow. Figure it out together."
"While working together," I add, the practical concerns unavoidable.
"While working together," he agrees. "Which means we need to be careful. Discrete."
I nod, knowing he's right. "Lily can't know. Not yet."
Vincent kisses me softly, then reluctantly pulls away. "I should go back to my room."
But as he moves to get up, I catch his wrist. "Stay," I whisper. "Just for a little while."
He hesitates, then settles back beside me, gathering me against his chest.
"Just for a little while," he agrees.
I curl into his warmth, my head resting in the crook of his shoulder, his heartbeat steady beneath my palm. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare back, and I feel more content than I can ever remember being.
"Tell me something about you I don't know," I murmur, fighting the drowsiness that threatens to overtake me.
He thinks for a moment. "I'm terrified of snakes. Ironic for a rancher."
I smile against his skin. "Everyone's afraid of something."
"What are you afraid of?" he asks, his voice rumbling in his chest beneath my ear.
"Ending up alone," I admit. "Having no real home."
His arms tighten around me. "You're not alone now."
The simple words settle something in me, and I smile, feeling myself drifting, the day's exhaustion finally catching up. Vincent's breathing grows deeper too, his caresses slowing.
Just five minutes, I think hazily. We'll just rest for five minutes...
Morning
"CHARLOTTE! DADDY!"
The excited shriek jolts me from deep sleep. My eyes fly open to find Lily bouncing enthusiastically at the foot of the bed, her dark curls wild around her beaming face. Beside me, Vincent bolts upright, the sheet falling to his waist.
"Time for horses! You promised!" Lily announces, completely oblivious to the absolute mortification freezing us both in place.
"Lily," Vincent's voice is hoarse with sleep and shock. "What are you—"
"I knocked but you didn't answer," she explains matter-of-factly, still bouncing. "So I came in. It's already seven o'clock! The horses are waiting!"
My brain frantically tries to process the situation. Vincent and I are both naked beneath the sheets. His daughter is jumping on the bed. We fell asleep—we actually fell asleep—and now we're caught in the exact scenario we'd agreed to avoid.
"Princess," Vincent says with remarkable composure, "why don't you go get dressed while Charlotte and I... get ready for the day?"
Lily stops bouncing, her head tilting as she looks between us with sudden curiosity.
"Why is Daddy in your bed, Charlotte? Did you have a sleepover?"
I feel heat rushing to my face. "Um, well..."
"I had a bad dream," Vincent interjects smoothly. "And Charlotte was helping me feel better."
Lily considers this explanation. "Like when I have bad dreams and come to your room?"
"Something like that," he says, relief evident in his voice. "Now, go brush your teeth and get dressed. We'll be out in a few minutes."
"Okay!" She hops off the bed. "Don't be long! Butterscotch is excited to meet you, Charlotte!"
With that, she skips out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind her.
The moment she's gone, Vincent and I look at each other, frozen for a split second before we both burst into nervous laughter.
"So much for discretion," I whisper, pulling the sheet up to cover myself better.
Vincent runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "I can't believe I fell asleep. I never fall asleep anywhere but my own bed."
"What do we do now?" I ask, the implications of Lily's discovery sinking in.
He sighs, leaning over to press a quick kiss to my forehead.
"Now, we get dressed and show you the horses, apparently." His expression turns serious. "And later, we figure out how to explain to a five-year-old why her daddy and her new nanny are having 'sleepovers.'"
"I'm sorry," I say, suddenly anxious. "This isn't how I wanted things to start."
Vincent's hand finds mine atop the sheets.
"Hey, no regrets, remember? We'll figure it out." He glances toward the open door. "But first, I better sneak back to my room before my brothers join the party too."
As he hurriedly pulls on his clothes, I can't help but think that my first day at the Covington ranch has certainly been nothing like I expected—and day two is already promising to be just as unpredictable.